


A Nice Thing About The Future

by Enid_Black



Series: Agent Barnes [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Fluff, Hints of hurt, M/M, Reunion Fic, later chapters: swearing, mostly comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3389261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enid_Black/pseuds/Enid_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Bucky flew from Hydra in 1991 (he doesn't kill Howard because he recognizes him) and Natasha got free earlier (I'm taking the freedom to consider Natasha birthdate in 1984 only a cover, as in the comics she's enhanced herself). He flew, he found Howard again and told him the truth and he went to S.H.I.E.L.D., where Peggy came herself to see him and, after debriefing, he stayed as agent with Nat (is it a problem that most of the BG of this fic has come while I was writing it here?)</p><p>So, in 2012, when the Valkyrie is finally found and Captain America is brought back to life, Steve doesn't wake to an old game in a wanna-be-'50s room, but to Bucky Barnes himself in a still wanna-be-'50s room. That's what happens ^^.</p><p> </p><p>The usual but always grateful thanks to NepturnalHarianne for being my awesome Beta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In his small New York apartment, after another day at S.H.I.E.L.D., Bucky was, for once, actually asleep. The week had passed by remarkably eventless, his time spent in an endless series of sparring matches with Natasha and Clint, to keep in shape (and to tire himself enough to manage to sleep few hours).  
Considering the relatively calm stretch, he wasn’t expecting at all to be awaken at 4 am from one of his few and far in between nightmare-less nights by his fucking mobile. He shot out of the bed and begrudgingly took the offending device from the side table, eyeing it with distrust. Nat’s number flashed on the screen, and, shit, Natasha wouldn’t call if it weren’t important. He swiped the surface of the device with his flesh hand and brought it to his ear.

“Barnes.” He said, stifling a yawn.

“James,” Nat’s voice came off the speaker sounding nervous and incredulous. A mix that he had _never_ heard in her voice in all the years they had worked together, _both_ back when they were the Winter Soldier and the Black Widow, _and_ now that they were Agent Barnes and Agent Romanoff. 

“James, you have to come immediately to the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in Manhattan.” 

“What the hell, Nat, what does Fury want that can’t wait a couple of hours?” he asked, keeping the phone stable between his head and his shoulder while trying to put on his t-shirt properly. “Is there some kind of mission?”

“Sort of, just come here, James.” She said, the urgency in her voice growing.

“Could you at least tell me what happened? I was actually having a rare good night of sleep, you know.” Black Widow hesitated on the other side of the line, and Bucky sped through his dressing up, this behavior of hers putting him even more on edge. “Look, I gather that’s import-”

“It’s Captain Rogers, they found him. Alive.” She said, quickly, cutting him off. Bucky swore loudly and his phone fell on the floor when his hand lost suddenly grip on it, and Natasha’s voice grew in volume and insistence. “James? JAMES, pick up! Are you there?” A still shocked Bucky gathered the phone back up from where it had landed, hands unsteady.

“I’ll be there in ten.” He said, clipped, and cut off the phone call.

Methodically, unthinkingly (if he did stop to think about it, he would curl on the floor and cry and he _couldn’t_ ), Bucky Barnes finished dressing as fast as he could and left the house, he wasn’t running but it was a damn near thing. He took his motorbike, driving it in the always trafficked New York, speeding up and dribbling cars and cabs. He got to the S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters not ten minutes later, he parked haphazardly and anything but ran to the elevator. Natasha was waiting there for him.

“Debrief.” He asked, pushing the elevator button and waiting for its arrival. It seemed slower than usual. Figures.

“The Valkyrie was found yesterday night in the Arctic and reported to us. They found Captain Rogers, frozen, inside of it. He was rescued, I gather, with the intention of giving him a grave or whatever, when the medical personnel realized that he was still alive. He’s been treated for the frost damages, but the super serum pretty much took care of those. He’s in a special room now, they think he’ll wake up sooner or later. It was lucky I was here when they brought him in, I still had to corner Fury, then I called you.” They got inside the elevator and rode up until they arrived at the Medical wing. Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“They didn’t want to tell me, did they?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Natasha shot him a look.

“I don’t think they’d keep it secret, and it’s not the sort of thing that _stays_ secret , but I know that they would have tried to. Follow me. Frankly, I think they made a mess of it.” She told him, as straightforward as usual.

Bucky followed Natasha silently, until they arrived to a separated room. Natasha opened the door and Barnes stepped in. Steven Grant Rogers himself lied on a bed, in a white shirt with the S.S.R. Logo, khaki pants and brown leather boots, his breathing deep and regular. The blond hair was combed on the side like he used to do seventy fucking years before and he seemed unharmed. The room was a reproduction from the ’40s. There was a radio, too, giving a commentary upon some baseball games. Bucky smirked.

“Geez, guys, this wouldn’t fool anyone. He would never go to bed with his _shoes_ on, and please, do your math, these games are from 1941, we were still in New York, then. He’s asleep, not stupid, you know…” he said, then murmured “I brought it all with me…”. He shut the radio off and took a chair, sitting on it, next to the sleeping Captain. “I’ll stay here. And I won’t be available for missions, and I don’t care what Fury whines about that, is that ok, Nat?” he asked.

“Sure, James, don’t worry. It’s already arranged. I’ll have one of the junior agents bring you some coffee, ok? Call if you need anything.” Bucky nodded.

“That would be great, and thank you.” He answered, watching Natasha getting out of the room. 

The door closed and he took his time to re-learn his friend’s face. He knew that he should feel a bit creepy, but, actually, it was not that different from when Steve was a skinny lad who didn’t know when to back off from a fight and got ill as often as he did. At least, this time Bucky didn’t have to stay on the side praying for his life. 

James Barnes hadn’t felt this disconnected since when he’d fled from Hydra, back when he was still the Winter Soldier. He remembered the moment when he realized that Steve had died protecting the nation from Hydra, just to have it come back in the underground. He had felt so angry and so lost. And lost he felt again, watching Steve breathing on the bed in front of him. Bucky raised his right hand and let it hover above the blonde’s hand. He was almost afraid of touching him, _what if this is just another dream I wake up screaming from_? His face tightened, a determined look appearing under the longish hair he tended to keep nowadays. Purposefully, he lowered his hand and let the digits feel the warmth and the texture of Steve’s skin. He whimpered, before realizing that the sound came from him.

“Stevie…” he breathed. The other man didn’t move. He was still fast asleep.

Bucky lowered his head, letting the hair hide his face, and gave in, letting the tears escape his eyes while his fingers found Steve’s pulse point (muscle memory from more than seventy years before) and the thumb drew circles on the wrist.

Few hours passed, his tears had come, stopped, and dried on his face. An agent had brought him some coffee and a couple of bagels, which he drank and ate mechanically with his left hand, and then it was just that, waiting. He waited like when they were fourteen and Steve caught that nasty bout of pneumonia that threatened to take him away from them (Bucky remembers now, for the first time since he got free, the tears in Mrs. Rogers’ eyes, the arrival of the priest, his hate for that damn purple stole he wore, the smell of incense burning his nose), he waited like when they were on a mission, Steve hidden in the bushes, Buck on a tree, completely still, before the fight would start, and he would shoot everyone that got too near to Captain America. He waited like when he arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D. the first time, when he was assessed and measured, and didn’t know if they would just put him in a cell for his crimes and throw the key away. 

The sun was surely high now, in the fake room with the fake windows, he wouldn’t know if not for the clock on his phone. Bucky’s eyes had just drifted to Steve’s face when he noticed him stirring. If he hadn’t been so expert in Steve’s signs of waking up (and he still wondered how these memories could have survived unscathed, coming to him with the same ease they had before everything literally fell in pieces), he wouldn’t have noticed, but the eyelashes fluttered, while he got used to blink again. Bucky held his breath, his hand stilling on Steve’s wrist, and observed. Steve blinked his eyes open, the pupil shrinking to adapt to the light of the room. His eyebrows furrowed, and Bucky could almost see the thought passing into his head: _what the hell…_?

He let Steve blink for a second more, then he couldn’t help it. He rose from the chair and put himself on the other’s line of view.

“Good morning, punk. Or rather, good afternoon, you definitely slept in.” He said, with a smirk, a shadow of the banter they always kept up. Steve’s eyes widened and he gaped. Bucky left him some time to gather his bearings, smiling down to his friend, who now had tightly taken hold of James’ wrist.

“Bucky… how?” were the words that in the end escaped Steve’s mouth.

“That’s a very good question, punk.” He answered. A tear escaped his eyes and he brought his metal hand up to chase it away. Steve followed the movement and his expression got strange. “Hey, hey, yes, I have a metal arm, don’t worry about that now, ok? I’ll explain what I can, but we’re safe here, I swear. Let’s get you sitting, I wanna see how you’re holding up now.” He said, trying to focus on the then and there instead of all the explaining that would be necessary.

Bucky started to help Steve stand up but Rogers caught his metal hand before it touched his shoulder. James felt almost hurt, thinking that maybe Steve wouldn’t want to be touched by his prosthetics (sometimes he didn’t want to be touched by that, and it was _his_ , now), when the blonde put his hand flat against the metal one, comparing sizes, observing it attentively. He let his fingers drift to the right and interwove them together, squeezing tight. Bucky answered with equal force, unafraid of hurting his best friend, and used the hand to pull him upright, sitting on the military-made bed.

“This is gonna sound crazy, but we’ve seen pretty crazy things together, haven’t we?” Bucky started. Steve’s eyes roamed on his face and he let him observe.

“How? The last thing I remember is putting the Valkyrie in the ice and the frozen water entering inside. Before that, I remember you falling from that damn train, Bucky, and now you’re here, and I don’t know where we are. So, crazy or not, please just tell me that I am not dreaming because I don’t care about anything else other than you being here, even with a metal arm and that ridiculous long hair.” He said. James enveloped Steve in a hug much like he used to do when the worst illnesses passed leaving Rogers still alive. Steve hugged him back fiercely, burying his face into the other’s neck.

“We are in New York, in a medical facility inside of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in New York. S.H.I.E.L.D. originated from S.S.R., after the end of World War II. And, Steve,” Bucky framed Steve’s face with his hands, so that he could look him straight in the eye while delivering the maybe more shocking news, “we’re in 2012. Your memory isn’t scrambled, you did put the Valkyrie in ice, preventing the explosion, and you ended up in the ice. Which probably kept you frozen and alive for almost seventy years.” He said, serious as the day he had told Steve that he had been drafted to go to war. Steve looked at him bewildered. 

“How are you still… you?” he asked, gesturing at his face.

“Zola. When you recovered me in ’43, he had already started experimenting on me. I think he gave me some kind of knock-off super-serum that, in the end, helped me survive the fall and what came after.” Steve hugged him again.

“I’m just glad you’re alive. And I’m so sorry I didn’t come to look for you…” He murmured into his metal shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid, now,” Bucky started, “If you take that line I’ll say that I should have looked for you when I got free twenty years ago.” Steve shook his head.

“You couldn’t have known.” He contested.

“That’s my point too, punk. You couldn’t have known.” He said. Steve got silent after that and Bucky blamed the thickness of his shirt and the faulty senses of his scarred and metal shoulder for not having realized that Steve was crying on it until he heard him drew a ragged breath. “Hey, Steve, Stevie, are you hurt? What’s up, come on.” He urged, worried, wondering whether it was some side effect, something left over by the ice. The irony of both of them being scarred by the ice wasn’t lost to him.

“You said that I’ve been missing for seventy years, but I was unconscious, frozen for all of them. For me, it’s like you fell from that damn train two weeks ago. Sorry, I’m a bit emotional.” He said, raising his head and trying to dry his eyes.

“It’s not like you to cry, but as I had my turn when I arrived here and you were sleeping, I think I know what you’re feeling. There are a lot of things I have to tell you, the world changed so much during these years.” Bucky said, putting his right hand on Steve’s shoulder, much like he used to do back when he was just a skinny boy.

“I know. I see your clothes, the materials are so different. We are so different.” Steve said, standing up in his feet and noticing that his movements were perfectly normal, like he had really just been asleep for a long time.

“Hey, not that different.” Bucky said, giving him a small smile. Steve turned towards Bucky.

“Are you ok, Bucky? I know you seem so, but some of the things you’ve said worry me.” He said, getting near him again. Bucky’s eyes veiled a bit.

“I haven’t been ok for a long, long time, Stevie.” He murmured, not sugarcoating the truth, “If we thought it was bad after you rescued me from Zola’s lab the first time… let’s just say it was just the beginning. But I’ve had time and friends and help to at least cope with it.” Steve went to stand in front of him, and Bucky asked him, looking him in the eyes, “Will you be all right?”. His hands came naturally on Steve’s hips, muscle memory unaffected by Hydra’s wiping him for decades before his escape. The corners of the blond man’s eyes crinkled at the affectionate movement and Steve carded a hand through Bucky’s hair, lifting it from his face so he could see it better.

“With you, I think I’ll be,” he murmured, “I can’t believe I have you back.” He added, stepping between Bucky’s legs.

“Till the end of the line, pal.” Barnes told him reverently, looking up at the man he had missed for so long.

“Till the end of the line.” Responded Rogers and then kissed the man in front of him. 

The sniper whimpered, his right hand coming up to clutch Steve’s neck, keeping him down; the left one, the metal one, hesitated on the side until Steve took it with his own hand and pressed it against his hip, holding it in place while his other hand caressed the other’s face. They eventually parted to look at each other. Steve folded on his knees, both of Bucky’s hands cupped his face, and their eyes roamed on each other. Steven started smiling and James followed suit, and he could not remember the last time he had smiled that much. Steve couldn’t resist and kissed him again, from below, and Bucky almost sobbed at the memories that flew into him from _before_ , before the serum, before the war, before the heartbreak and fear. Steve kissed him through it all.

“Do you want to know a nice thing about the future, Stevie?” James asked him, pecking him and beckoning him on the bed.

“Tell me, please.” He answered, sitting again on the mattress beside the sniper.

“Being queer is legal now, in America and in most of the occidental world.” Steve looked at him in wonder.

“You’re not kidding me, are you?” he urged.

“Nope, it’s true. Absolutely true, cross my heart.” He grinned at Steve’s realization.

“We don’t have to hide anymore…” he said. “That’s really a very nice thing.”

“Not that everyone accepts it, mind you, but we won’t be risking going to jail for it.” Steve smiled.

“That’s enough for me.”

 

A knock on the door interrupted them. Bucky signaled to Steve to stay there and went to the door. He didn’t want the entire S.H.I.E.L.D. messing with Steve right now. He was taking it exceptionally well, but shock had surely a hand in it. Luckily for them, when he opened a sliver of the entrance he saw Natasha.

“You didn’t answer your phone, James.” She said, pointedly watching him. “He woke up, didn’t he?” Bucky nodded. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce me?” she asked, smiling. Buck checked outside, not wanting other agents (and especially not Coulson or Nick Fury) to intrude. 

“Come in, Nat, but it’s only because it’s you.”

Natasha got in the room and closed firmly the door behind her. Bucky had come back to sit on the bed near Steve, who was now watching the new entry with curiosity. Natasha assessed him for few seconds, and then approached him with one hand stretched in front of her.

“Captain Rogers, it’s a pleasure and a surprise to make your acquaintance. James talks about you very fondly.” Bucky got pink at that, “My name is Natasha Romanoff, you can call me Nat, as this jerk here does.” She added with a smile. Steve took her hand with a firm but still delicate hold and answered.

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am, and please call me Steve. I can only agree on the jerk part.” He said. 

“Oh gosh, not Ma’am, please, just Nat or Natasha. I’m not that old, yet.”

“Don’t worry Nat, he’ll learn soon enough that you’re no dame.” Steve elbowed Bucky on the flesh arm.

“What were we saying? A jerk.” The Captain commented.

“You’re lucky you’re cute Rogers.” Bucky mumbled, making Steve blush and Natasha laugh.

“I like him, Barnes, we should keep him.” Natasha was amazed by the blinding smile James gave her.

“I don’t plan to let him out of my sight any soon.” He answered, making Steve smile back.


	2. Captain F*****g America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another part that WANTED to be written. I had a blast with this one. I don't know why I'm starting angsty and ending in crack, but, uh, that's the way it is ^^
> 
> Steve meets Stark... does it need further explanations?
> 
> Again, thanks to NepturnalHarianne, my lovely and precious Beta ^^
> 
> Warning: so many swear words that the characters should wash their mouth with soap, I'm raising the rating to Teen for this XD

After the due debriefing, where Steve recounted the events that happened after the communication with the Valkyrie had cut off, and where he was told the clearly summed up history from 1944 to 2012, Captain America went through the required physical and psychic evaluations. 

They had lasted a long and tiring week for both of them, since the former Winter Soldier had refused to be bulged from Steve’s side during the whole ordeal, aside from the time James spent talking, shouting, bribing and sometimes threatening S.H.I.E.L.D. into approving Steve's move to his apartment, and into adding enough surveillance and defense to protect the President himself. The Captain had seemed perfectly fine at the S.H.I.E.L.D. premises, but Bucky knew better and he had noticed the slight frown that kept appearing on his brow when Steve thought no one was looking, the one that, in all their years of friendship and more, Bucky had come to know as a sure sign of exhaustion. During this whole process, they had even managed to avoid meeting Coulson, a blessing in not so much of a disguise, since Barnes was used by then to how much that man could fanboy about him, but he didn’t dare imagine the levels it would reach with Captain America himself present, flesh and blood and flawless smile. He actually shuddered at the thought. 

Natasha had evidently been at the apartment, he thought as they entered, as there was food in the fridge, clothes for Steve and a note in Russian telling him to call her in case of need.

“Pretty different from our days, ain’t it?” Bucky asked, turning around to see Steve step inside the apartment and trying to take everything at once. The Captain closed the door behind him, and put the shield on the ground. The entrance opened up immediately to an open space where the only thing dividing the living room and the small, well-furnished kitchen was the island that doubled up as a breakfast table, with its four high stools placed around. As Steve’s eyes were caught by the blinking light that came from some kind of device under the rather big television, and by the very comfy-looking couch in front of it, Bucky had made his way towards the coffee maker and started a pot. “Even if it’s bigger than our shabby rooms in Brooklyn, it was the one that reminded me more of it. It’s the light… It’s good to draw, I kept thinking you would have liked it.” He said, nervously. Bucky was talking to fill in the silence. 

“Bucky…” Steve started, but James didn’t really pay heed, putting two mugs on the counter, and taking out sugar and cream.

“The television has loads of channels, so you can watch the news or the sport or whatever. The couch is comfortable, I’m sure you’ll like it. I hope you’ll like it. There are two bedrooms and the bathroom is in the middle. We have loads of warm water, and the WC doesn’t get stuck in flushing. Oh, look, Nat left some bananas, now, my friend, let me say that _these_ are not bananas…”  
Steve appeared in front of Bucky and cupped his face with his hands.

“Buck. Stop it, you’re rambling. It’s fine, I like it, I’m fine, I just want to rest and I think you should really lay off the coffee now. Why don’t we go and have a nap?” Bucky nodded.

“Maybe I am a little nervous…” he admitted, “sometimes I still don’t believe it’s true… that you’re here, that is.” Steve smiled, tired but more serene than he had been at the S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. 

“I know how that feels.” He said.

“Let’s go and have a nap, then. Will… will you sleep with me?” he asked, almost hopeful.

“What made you think that it would be any different than when we were at our old apartment, or during the war, or even the last week at S.H.I.E.L.D. when you barely left for a shower and I had to bully you into it?” Steve retorted, amused. Bucky smiled, relieved, kissed him on the lips and took Steve’s hand with his flesh one, guiding him in the left room. He opened the door and stopped in his tracks. On the bed, that had clean sheets and was freshly made, there was a basket full of condoms and lube in various flavors. A note stick to it in Natasha’s handwriting said “ _I thought I’d restock your room too. You should really learn to put your socks in the hamper though!_ ”. Bucky _groaned_ and Steve first got completely red, and then started laughing. While James banged his head on the doorjamb, the blond put the basket on the floor and laid down on the bed.

“Oh gosh… this is heaven.” He moaned. Barnes looked at him and smirked.

“I know. Clint brought me to this awesome store, where they have all kind of mattresses. This is awesome: it’s firm enough without being stiff.” He said, joining the other man on the bed. Steve manhandled him until Bucky was draped on his back.

“Here, be the big spoon now, would you?” The blond asked almost shyly. 

“Sure. Even if we’re ridiculous.” James answered, bringing his arms around Steve to hug him tight.

“Don’t care, too tired, hush and sleep.” Bucky chuckled, but he felt as drained as Steven, so he closed his eyes, burrowed his face on his lover’s neck and resolved to relax. Both were out cold in a minute. 

 

They slept peacefully for a couple of hours. They would have slept far longer had the choice been on them. Alas, it hadn’t. 

They were rather suddenly woken up by Master of Puppets blaring at full volume from the Hi-Fi system. Both Steve and Bucky stood up in a fraction of second, Steve’s eyes animated with alarm, Bucky’s reduced to a slit with the certainty of the identity of the trespasser. He wanted to go and manhandle the offending man, but before going in the living room to kick Tony Stark’s ass, he had to calm Steve down. He remembered how easily he could be spooked the first months (who was he kidding? The first years) after he had escaped Hydra, and it wasn’t even about Hydra conditioning: the war memories were enough to keep him on edge. It wasn’t different for Steve. So, he crawled where the blond was stuck in a defensive position, probably wishing for his shield on his arm.

“Steve… hey, Steve.” He said, loud enough to be heard above the music, but keeping his voice soft and unthreatening, “Listen to me, Steve. You’re safe, we’re in 2012, we’re in New York at my apartment, we’re safe. It’s nothing, it’s just music, not like anything we used to listen to, but it’s music.” He had kept crawling towards Steve, and was finally at arm’s reach. Steve looked at him, his eyes large and his breathing rapid. Shit, Bucky felt a shiver of dread at how much that reminded him of Steve’s asthma attacks. He still hadn’t answered. “Steve, Stevie, can I touch you, punk? Can I hug you?” Steve swallowed, then wet his lips and nodded. Bucky didn’t wait more, he closed the distance between them and enveloped him in his arms. “Now listen to me, punk, put your hand on my chest and match my breathing, ok? Like we used to back before the war, like you Ma’ taught us.” Steve nodded and his breathing became more regular. After few minutes, Bucky heard the music volume being lowered and Tony’s voice could be heard.

“Popsicle, come on, don’t tell me you didn’t hear me!” he said, snickering, and then the door opened abruptly. Tony saw Steve with his eyes closed and his forehead on Bucky’s chest, taking very controlled lungfuls of air, and Bucky looking towards him with something between exasperation and resignation. “Shit. Shit, damn, shit.” He said, and disappeared in the living room again. The music stopped altogether and Tony reappeared at the door few seconds later. “Shit, Barnes, I’m sorry, I didn’t… holy cow, he is Captain fucking America!” 

Steve had raised his eyes towards the door as soon as he’d heard the stranger’s voice. It was a man in faded black jeans, on the shorter side. His black t-shirt had some kind of logo on, something about alternating and direct power oddly enough, but oddities weren’t unexpected, as the man resembled very much a young Howard Stark. His eyes were bulging out in surprise, he was sprouting profanities at any turn, and was generally ridiculous. Steve couldn’t help the laughter that left his mouth at his words. Bucky turned to look at him with a disbelieving look in his eyes, and that made Steve laugh even harder, forcing him to lean on the wall while he clutched his side with his hands, his eyes wet because of the mirth. “Oh, great, I broke Captain America, fuck…” said Tony numbly, leaning on the doorframe and sliding down to the floor, shocked. Bucky was still watching Steve with an indecipherable expression.

“Tony, what the fuck are you doing here?” Bucky finally asked, his voice tense, while Steve’s laughter became a soft giggle (at least the panic attack wasn’t full blown).

“You haven’t answered my phone calls in _days_ , Armstrong.” He said, faintly, before visibly shaking himself awake. “How in hell is Captain fucking America here?” Tony then retorted, and Steve sprouted in another bout of laughter, “Oh gosh, I really did break him. Howard will skin me alive.” He lamented. Bucky still wasn’t seeing what ever there was to laugh about the situation and ignored Tony to turn to Steve again.

“Punk, why are you laughing like that?” he asked, and then he brushed away a stray tear from Steve’s face with a tender gesture.

“Be-because,” Steve tried to say while still cackling, “Captain _fucking_ America!” and kept on giggling. _Well_ , Barnes mused, _that explains everything_.

“And…?” he prompted. Steve took several deep breaths and looked James in the eyes.

“Nothing, it just made me laugh. I think it was the surprise. Come on, it’s funny!” He was still smiling. Seeing Steve relaxed, Bucky couldn’t help mimicking him and huffed, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re nuts, you’ve always been nuts, but the ice just scrambled your head for good.” He told his oldest friend.

“Ok, Geriatric ward of S.H.I.E.L.D., could one of you explain to me _how in fucking holy hell is Captain America here_?” Tony repeated, exasperated.

“I was towed out of the ice and thawed more or less a week ago and when I woke up this motherfucker was there to tell me ‘You’ve slept in’ after I had seen him falling off a train. With a shiny new damn metal arm, too, if you can believe that.” Steve deadpanned to Tony, whose eyebrows were raising towards his hairline.

“Well, Howard and aunt Peggy did tell me that you were a little shit, and the devil knows, I am the last person who could complain about that, but do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” this was Bucky’s turn to giggle, while Steve looked sheepish.

“No, he kisses me with that mouth and I’m more than happy about that.” Tony smiled devilishly.

“Oh yeah? Can I watch?” Steve blushed furiously, still unused to the free innuendo of the new century.

“No, you’re too young, it’ll block your growth. Oh wait…” Bucky retorted, and Tony, keeping his very mature behavior, stuck his tongue out at him. 

“Ok, ok, let’s start again, properly this time.” said Steve, “Nice to meet you, I’m Steven Rogers, yes, I’m Captain America, and you can call me Steve.” He held his hand out, towards the younger Stark. Tony shook it and answered.

“I’m Tony Stark, the most intelligent Stark, and I think you know my father Howard. On this topic, does the old man know that you’re alive?”

“He came to meet me at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ the other day, so I would assume he knows.” Steve answered, with a small smile on his face.

“Then I’ll have to go and harass him for not sharing precious info!” the genius declared. Bucky huffed and finally stood from the floor.

“I’m too old to babysit you, Baby Stark,” Tony looked offended again, “Why don’t we go and get a coffee?” he offered his left hand to Steve, to help him get up, and the blond promptly took it. Barnes led him in the living room, stepping faux-carelessly over Tony and forcing Steve to do the same, before setting back to make the coffee he had abandoned earlier.

“You sit there.” He told Steve, who decided that it was better to do as he was told, “Baby Stark, if you want some coffee you should sit too! At the table!” He yelled at the man, who was still sprawled on the floor. Tony stood up and made his way to the kitchen.

“I am not _Baby Stark_ , I am Tony, thank you very much, _Popsicle_. Wait… you were in the ice too, right, Cap?” Steve nodded, wondering where the sentence would lead with a feeling of slight dread. “Then… if Barnes’ Popsicle… yes, you’re _Capsicle_!” Bucky groaned from his position at the coffee maker.

“Gosh, Tony, could you wait _five minutes_ before sprouting nicknames, at least?” he asked.

“Nope, you should never waste a good occasion!” he answered. “Come on, Popsicle and Capsicle, it’s _perfect_.” He grinned, with a grand gesture of his hands.

“You say so, hobbit.” Barnes retorted, the smell of coffee starting to fill the air. He took three mugs and some of the bagels Nat had left in the fridge for them, and placed them on the island.

“Now, that was offensive.” Stark protested. Steve, from his position on the stool in front of the kitchen aisle, observed the back-and-forth between the two men and smiled. Bucky poured the coffee in the mugs and handed them to Steve and Tony, passing sugar and cream along (Steve took both of them, Tony denied either with a grimace).

“Come on, Bucky, you never mocked me for my height, back when I was a squirt, don’t start now.” He said, drinking his coffee.

“You see? That’s why he is Captain America: because he is _nice_.” Bucky almost sprayed Tony with his coffee.

“No, he’s Captain America because he’s a punk who can’t stay out of trouble, that’s why. _Don’t do anything stupid until I get back_ , I told him, and he even dared to answer me _How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you_ … Gosh, not even half, I say.” Steve smiled warmly at him. “See? Let me tell this to you, Tony, see those baby blue eyes and the angelic demeanor? Well, _don’t trust them_. He’s a smartass and he knows it.” Bucky relaxed back on the third stool by the kitchen aisle and looked pointedly at Steve, who was watching him with an expression that said _who, me?_ Tony looked back and forth between the two.

“You know what, Armstrong? If that’s so, I’m sure I’ll like your Cap, there.” He declared, smirking, and the three men drank their coffee in peace, sharing bagels, and with Steve giggling from time to time muttering _Captain fucking America_.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I don't know if I'll add oneshots or not to this, but I feel like considering prompts, so feel free to pop them in the comments ^^.


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